WISH

Here Adam the forester earned his keep

and accounted to no one for his care of trees,

wayward goats and wandering cows whose bells

clanged high and low Belong! I belong to you!

He was like a pine at the peak of its strength, heard

and saw what many missed in their noise and hurry

through forest glades, either by moonlight

when the Guardians and Wardens danced, or in bright

sun when they took the guise of what they cared for.

Adam worked hard to build his own wood house

and win the love of a girl in the village below

who had made a childhood promise to be his bride.

And one spring day he brought Maria home

to their tall-roofed chalet in her long dress

embroidered with flowers of every season.

Flocks of valley farms rang their bells, and gentians

blessed the bride with their first blue. Well-

wishing and rejoicing rustled through the forest.

But even this wedding day was haunted by a shadow.

Beyond a high pass lurked Fængler. No one

knew how his malice began, why each day

his countless years gave him less joy,

or what powers he had over the soured spirits

imprisoned in his steep-sided dell. The sun

shunned it and the kindly alpenrose died out.

His bent body grew more shrivelled and his clothes

more threadbare. No taller than a small

pony, he hid his misery behind the beard

that hung below his knees, a frosty thorn bush

he shook in threatening rage. At the moon’s

dark he set out in boots that muffled and trebled

his stride over pathless ways to prowl round

farms and steal young cattle from their stalls.

He left his prints on moss and sandy fords.

Delicate flowers drooped and withered where he’d passed.

Though they hated and feared the haunter

for stealing goats and cows he did not need,

people envied his precious weapon, an ancient

silver chain of nine wonder-working stones.

Long-dead silversmiths took a hundred years

to make sure its wearer might realise every wish.

However it came his way, Fængler wore it day

and night. Out of spite he could spread disease,

make storms crush cattle under falling trees.

Or so everyone believed, and blamed him

for any misfortune that struck their lives.

No wonder there was a long-held hope

weak as it seemed to be, that someone strong

and cunning would be born to them, surprise

the evil coward and his miserable sentries,

seize that silver necklace and so remove all

power to do them harm. Every parent

dreamed of bringing a saviour to the valley.